


Good, even.

by BilletDoux



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 07:08:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5488256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BilletDoux/pseuds/BilletDoux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy wants Matt's hands on his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good, even.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my best friend Nat who helped me edit this and clean it up!!! She's the real winner.

_'it's just how he sees people,'_ Foggy reminds himself. 

He's witnessed Matt's method on a few occasions. It’ll begin when the two of them start chatting up a group of cute girls. Eventually at least one of them will let Matt place his hands on her face so he can gently move his fingers across her eyelids and cheeks and lips and give her a pretty accurate description of what she looked like.

He always thought Matt looked gentle while he did it.

_Shit._

Before Foggy can process thought into words there are fingers softly pressing into his forehead. It's slow and personal, much more so than with any random girl they would meet at a party.

That's how it feels anyway, as Matt's digits move from his forehead to his cheeks.

"Matt, buddy, the least you could do is buy me dinner first," Foggy tries to joke.

"I already did buy you dinner," Matt reminds him. He could taste the cheap mix of Chinese food and off brand coke. He hadn't felt like eating.

"Right, well, I guess you can have at it then."

"Enthusiastic consent, Mr. Nelson."

"I'm consenting enthusiastically." 

Matt's hands move to the bridge of his nose and then downwards. Foggy momentarily considered faking a sneeze just to mess with his blind friend, but then decides against it when Matt's fingers reached his top lip and delicately brush against them.

Screw being personal: this feels downright intimate.

They're only there for a brief moment, but it's as if Matt lingers longer than truly necessary, almost hesitating as he moves to his chin and jaw.

Foggy Nelson is having thoughts about kissing his best friend, and he wants to die.

"You got a pretty good idea of what you're dealing with, Matty? How’s my face? More handsome than you thought?" Foggy studies Matt's expression, and, while he couldn't see much behind his glasses, he knew it had to be one of pure uncertainty "Worse?"

How could Matt tell Foggy he was gorgeous? That every single moment his hands touched his face it was like electricity surging beneath the pads of his fingers. He hadn't meant to pause so long on Foggy's lips, but it was like he couldn't drag himself away.

"It's good," Matt said, wishing next to go deaf after he heard those words come out of his mouth.

"Thank you for the Murdock seal of approval," Foggy said, standing up from Matt's bed and going over to their desks, grabbing both of their textbooks. "Now come on, we've got an exam to fail on Thursday."

Matt ran a hand through his hair, glad the topic was dropped for now.

Matt Murdock is having thoughts about kissing his best friend, and he wants to die.

*0*

"Are your ribs broken?" Foggy asked, cleaning and sewing a deep laceration on the left side of Matt's chest.  
Matt moved for a second and listened. "Bruised, not broken."

"Are you positive?"

"Yes."

"You know why I can't wait for Claire to get back? So she can be the one to sew Daredevil up after he goes back-flipping into the night to fight crime and save innocent civilians."

"Your suturing skills leave a lot to be desired, but you’ve got potential.”

"You're really going to insult the guy that has a sharp needle near your open wound?"

"You make a very reasonable and rational argument. Sew away, nurse Nelson."

Foggy let out a dramatic sighed and finished the final stitch. 

“Well, since you've already bled all over my couch, want a beer while we're at it?” He stood up from his seat on the coffee table so he could put the first aid kit back into the hall closet.

Matt slowly sat up and grabbed for the t-shirt Foggy let him borrow, since his best friend insisted that he just crash here for the night. The two of them would go back to Matt's place in the morning so he could get dressed before work.

“I told you I'd pay to have it cleaned.”

“Matt, really, it's not even that bad. Plus, what would I even tell the person who cleaned it? That's one stain that doesn't have a good story.” Matt heard the soft whiish of the refrigerator door and the gentle clink of two beer bottles.

“I'm sure you could make something up. You've always been good at stuff like that. You are an attorney, after all." 

“Hi-larious, Murdock.”

Matt took the cold bottle from Foggy when it was presented to him. The chilled glass felt good against his raw palms. They sat in silence for a moment while Matt considered the status of the room around him.

The lights were dimmed way down. It was a thoughtful move on Foggy’s part considering how Matt didn't have his glasses and the harsh light hurt him more than an average person. The temperature and the minimal noise coming from the city outside indicated it to be late, probably closer to 2:30 AM, but without sun to touch his skin it became a bit harder to figure out. Matt could tell Foggy had showered a few hours before he got there, the strong scent of some kind of spicy body wash filled Matt’s nostrils.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Tasting the air or some shit. You're trying to decide what kind of takeout I had one the eighth of May a year ago, right?"

The accusation made Matt laugh. He tipped his head back to get a drink of his beer. 

"I was just trying to guess the time."

"It's 2:49, weirdo. All you had to do was ask me."

"Damn it, nineteen minutes off."

"Matt, do you… Do you ever miss being able to see? Like, if you could trade your powers for sight… Am I too out of line with this?"

"No, you're fine. You know what they like to say, Foggy, don't dwell on the past or you'll lose focus of the future. Not the best analogy for a blind person, granted, but it's still some sage advice."

"Sure." He could hear the smile in Foggy's voice.  
"But… sometimes I wonder what'd it be like to see your faces, Claire and Karen and you. All I'd really want is to be able to see faces again."

"From what I can remember you got a pretty good idea of what my face looked like in college. What'd you call it again? ‘Good?’"

"Oh, god, are you kidding? You still remember that?"

"I've never had another guy caress my face like a lover before, so, yeah, I remember it pretty vividly."

Matt covered his face. Not that it did him any good, but it sure did make him feel better.

"I wouldn't mind you doing it again," Foggy confessed. "At least to give me an accurate description."

"You can give yourself an accurate description in the mirror," Matt told him, "Besides, my hands aren't as soft as they were back in college."

"So what? I don't give a shit." Matt felt Foggy get closer. "It'll only take a minute."

"Alright, fine." Matt set his beer down on the coffee table, moving slowly to make sure he didn't crack a rib or tear open a stitch. He sat with his back against the armrest and his arms outstretched so he could trace Foggy's features.

"Talk me through it, Matty."

Matt's breath caught in his throat. If his dear old dad could see him now.

"Your skin feels clean, like you just showered. Your jaw is smooth… I assume you shaved as well."

"No one wants to see me looking like a lumberjack, trust me, Matt."

"Your nose is short," he said, moving his fingers inwards, "Goes up at the end." His hands went up to Foggy's forehead.

"Big ass forehead."

"Thanks," he said, smiling gently. Matt's hands went back down to his cheeks.

"You have dimples at the sides of your mouth. I didn't know that."

"What else?"

"...You're not bad looking." He didn't know what else to say without it getting too sappy to still be considered 

1) platonic  
and  
2) heterosexual.  
"Good, even?"

"Bite me, Foggy."

Matt was about move on from this, just try and change the subject to something else. Maybe even try to sleep. He had every intent until he felt Foggy's hand wrap around his wrist, gently guiding Matt's digits over his mouth and across his lips.

Before Matt even had time to react, he felt the press of a kiss against the pads of his fingers.

"What are you-"

"I uh. Back in college, when your fingers were near my mouth and on my lips, I thought about doing that. Just now realized how incredibly awkward this would be in reality. I think I'm going to go drink bleach."

Matt felt Foggy start to get up and he grabbed at the sides of his face, squeezing gently.

He couldn't form words. It was as if every single item Matt had in his verbal repertoire had been simultaneously forgotten. He wanted to tell Foggy how he felt, how he never wanted to take his hands off of his face (amongst other places, but that was something he didn't even let spill in confession), or how it drove him absolutely crazy that he never took his chance that night, but the words simply would not produce themselves.

And if he couldn't talk, he would act.

Matt's body operated on autopilot. His hands held Foggy's head in place while he brought their lips together in a kiss that borderlined awkward and satisfying, and when his best friend in the entire world reciprocated the act, Matt felt as though he would melt into the couch.

"I always knew you used that trick to pick up girls," Foggy said with peaceful inflection, his hands now rested carefully on Matt's thighs, their bodies pressed up as close together as they could manage without it becoming too physically uncomfortable for either of them.

"You assume I ever had to try and pick you up," Matt said smugly, gently moving his hands to run his fingers his through Foggy's hair.

"You're _mean._ I don't have to let you spend the night, you know."

"I'm aware, but I also know you're not going to kick a helpless blind man out of your apartment at three in the morning."

"Really, that's the story you're sticking to?"

"Sure is."

Foggy got up from where he sat and extended a hand out to help Matt stand up. 

"Come on, let me escort the ‘helpless’ blind man to bed. And I was making an air quote, if you didn't know.”

“I figured as much,” Matt said, taking the hand and using it to help himself stand up, slowly and carefully. He felt Foggy’s arm wrap around his waist as they began to walk to Foggy’s bedroom and Matt sighed, he sighed, like a high schooler that had just gotten a love letter from their Big Crush.

“Think you'll still want to do that when we wake up in the morning?” Foggy asked.

“Do what?”

“Y’know, kiss and stuff.”

“And _stuff?_ ”

“You know what I meant!”

“Yeah, Foggy, I think so. You're pretty good at it.” Matt smirked with his last comment.

“You're an absolute ass, Matt.”


End file.
